Re-Finding Steve
by Nicole WillKillYou
Summary: The serum fails Steve, he finds himself back to the weaker man he was before joining the army. No longer able to continue being Captain America, Steve has to remember who he was before the war. A good place to find yourself is in College. Denver doesn't know she needs to find herself when she first unknowingly meets the Ex-Super Soldier. Will she find Steve along the way too?
1. Change is Scary

Uh, hello. It's been a while, if you guys even know me. My name's Nicole and I'm a new college student. That's how I came across this idea, while freaking my little head off as a freshmen. I know it's not the typical Avenger fan piece, but I was curious about this kind of story. I really hope you enjoy it!

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Denver- Prologue

FALL

My Dad stood outside the truck, tapping his boot and crossing his farmer arms tightly over his chest. I had to admit that it was a bit of an intimidating stance, but so was the building looming behind him.

Dad tried to have an annoyed scowl plastered across his sun-stained face. He really did, only it lasted for a few seconds at a time before a little amused smirk would start to peak through.

Oh yeah, he was having a good old time at my expense.

As he finally broke to just open the darn car door himself, I slammed the lock down. He actually laughed as he pulled out a jingling bunch of metal pieces out of his pocket.

Oh, right. Keys.

I pinched my lips unhappily as he unlocked the door. Once the door was open, I could feel the first crispness of fall settling in the air. Coastal Washington never stayed in the summer month very long.

"Denver, sweetie, we can't play all day. There are a lot of boxes in the bed of the truck." Dad said to me as if to a frightened animal. I looked at the tall, large brick building behind him and determined that I was.

"Aren't there more classes I can take at the Community College?" I asked, well more like pleaded.

"You know better than I that there aren't. Come on, isn't it your dream to be a physical therapist? So you can help people like Salem?" My Dad argued.

Darn him, he was good. Using the tug on my own heartstrings to get me out of the car.

"You just want your truck all to yourself." I whined, yet it was in a teasing manner. This caused the tension to snap as my Dad let out a hearty laugh. I felt my own lips splitting into a grin as I unbuckled the seatbelt.

Before Dad could recover from his laughing fit, I launched myself at him for a tackle. I wrapped my arms around his waist as his went around my shoulders. No one ever grows too old for a Daddy's hug.

"It's fine. You'll do great and come home in no time. You'll get a job at the local hospital and be back to watching over this old fart before you know it." Dad comforted, his face burying in my dark brown hair. He always said I had my Mama's hair, but his 'muddy grass' hazel eyes.

I slowly let go as I give him a watery smile. Yeah, it seems I was a University student now.

Steve- Prologue

SUMMER

Colonel Fury was not happy. That isn't saying he ever really was, but today seemed to be a lot worse than most. I could see him standing outside my exam room, just letting the poor Doctor have it. I felt myself cringe as I heard pieces of what he was saying. People these days sure liked to use such harsh vocabulary. Finally, he got to something understandable.

"Doctor, do you or do you not know what's wrong with him?" Fury said in his scarily calm voice. I looked outside to see them both looking back at me. That wasn't a good sign. The Doctor nodded his head yes before gesturing the Colonel away to discuss it privately.

It's only been two years or so, since I got out of that ice. Two years since I officially joined the twenty first century. In those two years, all I've known is missions and battle and fighting and violence. That's what I was good at, being the soldier that America needed. That's what I was made to do.

But I was breaking. I noticed the first signs a few, short months ago. During a monthly check up, it seemed that I had lost a few inches in height. Same with around my arms and legs. I was getting… smaller. Then came the shortness of breath I remembered from my childhood. I had asthma again. Soon my health started plunging into a nose dive.

Now, here I find myself in an exam room staring at my reflection cast by the window. No longer was I the famed Captain America that had been plastered on trading cards and posters. I was once again just Steve. I was thin, my arms not thicker than a tee ball bat. I was short, no longer standing proud at over six feet, but instead closer to five. My skin seemed pale, like I'd been sick, and my face slightly hollowed from stress.

I was just Steve again. Sandy blonde hair and blue eyes seemed to be the only thing I shared with Captain America. But I wasn't him anymore.

Fury came in while I was deep in thought. Once I noticed him, I stood respectfully at attention. He didn't have to say a thing. His face said it all. This was permanent. My composure broke as my legs gave out. I fell back against the table, rattling the glass on top.

"Captain Rogers, is there anything you've ever wanted to do? It seems this would be a good opportunity to pursue it." Fury said. I was thankful to him. How he didn't say sorry or that it was a real shame they lost the best soldier. No, he treated me the same, with a little amount of well-deserved pity.

"I want to talk to my team, sir." I said, picking up my leather jacket that didn't fit as it should anymore. Fury just nodded his head. I know I still had his respect, no matter if I could win in an arm wrestling fight or not anymore.

It only took a few hours for the team to assemble. They'd only had small glances of my appearance before I got worse. They deserved to know what was happening.

The double take Clint gave me as I walked in the door almost had me laughing. His eyes narrowed before widening comically. Natasha followed his gaze, gasping as she connected the dots faster than her fellow agent. Thor was distracted for a while as he was observing a new piece of Tony's technology.

"So, the rumors were true. The serum failed." Natasha said. God, the look of pity in her eyes made me look away. I didn't need any of it, I had enough for myself.

"I'm sorry to say, but I seem to have to take a leave of absence for a long duration of time. Possibly permanent." I couldn't say that I wasn't an Avenger anymore. If I didn't say it, then there was always that tiny shard of hope on the horizon that they could 'fix me'.

"What you gonna do now then, Cap?" Tony asked. I smiled at him. He wasn't a man out to give pity. He know the downwards potency of it as well as I.

"Well, before joining the army, I was considering going to school." I said. "Maybe get a degree in art." I continued.

"There's a ton of great school's around here with art programs." Bruce said. Just like Tony, he wasn't judging me. He knew the personal strain of my situation possibly better than anyone else.

"Actually, I was thinking about getting away. Probably the West Coast." This instantly caused a smile to spread across Tony's face.

"He's coming over to my side, y'all." He said in a fake accent, for what reason I wasn't sure. "Man, you'll love Cali. The sun, the beaches, the girls!" He said, winking on the last one.

"Not to be rude, but I think I may go to another state. I just can't handle anything that reminds me of what I used to be. That includes being near the Avengers. It won't be long, just half a year or so. I need to find time to find Steve again." I said, not making eye contact.

"Where will you go then?" Thor asked.

"Well, there's this one school in Washington…" I started to explain.

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So... is it rubbish? If not, please let me know and I will be encouraged to continue it. Thank you for taking the time to read it.

Sincerely,

Nicole WillKillYou


	2. Mister Steve

Wow, thank you everyone for reading. It's a great encouragment. Because I was so thrilled, I decided to post the first chapter today. Please review to give me help and encouragment for Chapter 2.

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Chapter 1

Denver

It has been a week since Dad dropped me off at School. Classes didn't start until tomorrow, so all week I explored the school. All my classes were easy enough to find. The main cafeteria was in the very center of the school. My dorm was on the south side. Then I decided to explore in hopes of stumbling upon something unexpected. I found some of the best spots in the school, as well as one hidden person.

One of the unexpected things was a jogging trail. Today I didn't feel like jogging, so I decided to hike the path as it ran along the river. The sun broke through the leaves, causing shadows and green hues to bounce off of every tree and rock. The water's gentle trickle had the most relaxing effect on me since I had stepped out of Dad's truck.

I really missed home. I missed my Dad, and my brother Salem. Yep, both my brother and I are named after cities. It was a pretty cheesy tradition from my mom's side of the family. Her name was Sydney. I planned on continuing the tradition, sorry future children. The thought of how my mom would have been happy about me continuing the tradition caused a smile to grace my lips.

While continuing on with my thoughts about how much I missed my mom, I almost missed him. Not sure how I could of, since he didn't blend into the natural scenery at all. His blonde hair and pale skin didn't even get close to the dark brown bark and green bushes surrounding him.

He sat on top of a large rock that could be called a boulder to some. The first impression from him was that he seemed sad. I could easily relate to that emotion. That's when I started feeling lonely again. He didn't seemed very focused on the sketch pad lying across his lap as he twirled the pencil in circles in his hand. It wasn't like I was going to disturb him.

Well one thing about Denver (yes I am talking about myself in third person, thank you) is that she was never afraid to make new friends.

I knew he heard me walking up to him. I guess he could have assumed I would have just continued to walk right on by. But nope. I sat on the ground and leaned my back against his boulder like chair. I then saw what he was sketching. This spot had a good view of a small embankment. The limbs crossed over it in just a way that allowed it to seem like a puzzle.

I sat there for a while. It's been a long time since I had to actually go out of my way to introduce myself, growing up in a small town in all. I'd known the same kids since we were all in diapers. So the first thing I did when meeting this new person, this complete stranger to me, was be painfully obvious and generic.

"Hi, my name's Denver." I stated in a perky tone like it was my first day of kindergarten. Well this got his attention. He leaned forward to look down at me as I looked up. One of his eyebrows were raised in a questioning manner. I had to admit, he had some of the clearest blue eyes I had ever seen. This caused me to just smile up at him.

"And you would be Mister…" I said, inclining for him to finish the sentence with a sideways wave of my hand.

"Steve?" He said, as if questioning his own name.

"Well hello Mister Steve. It's nice to meet you. You new here too?" I asked, painfully trying to start a conversation.

"Yes ma'am." He said, looking as if he was trying to gage my reaction to this little tid-bit of knowledge.

"Cool. Me too, though I was born and raised in the State, only a few hours away from here. Where are you from?" I asked, no longer looking up at him because I was getting a kink in my neck.

"New York." He said, seeming almost hesitant to answer.

"Woah, well haven't you gone a far ways away from home. So why come all this way for a small school like this? I bet there are plenty of school's with similar art programs on the East Coast." I asked, stretching my legs out in front of me.

"I needed an escape." Steve said. Underneath I could hear there was a lot more than just that but knew it wasn't something he was even close to sharing from the tone in his voice. It was the same tone I carried when people asked about my Mom a few years back.

"Well, Mister Steve, I believe you found your escape." I said, gesturing towards the scenery around us. What was that? Did I just here a chuckle from the supposedly haunted man above me? Score one for Denver.

"So, can I be your first West Coast buddy?" I asked in a joking manner.

"I would be happy to have you as my 'buddy', Denver." Steve joked right on back. So this guy had a bit of a humor, but it seemed to be rusty.

"Ok, cool. I guess I have my first East Coast friend. So Mister Steve, wanna play random question game to not be complete strangers?" I asked.

It took me a while to explain that random question game was basically what the name entitled. I asked a random question and we both answer it, then he asks the next question and so forth. My favorite color was royal blue while he liked red. His favorite Disney movie was Pinocchio while I like Hercules. My favorite breed of dog was golden retrievers where he didn't know his. He preferred coffee while I like tea, further explaining that I only drank coffee when it was a bad day.

"I'm already hyper enough. That extra caffeine is for when my spirits are down low. If I had it every day, I would be hopping around like a drugged up bunny." I said, laughing with Steve as we were walking back to the main campus.

Steve seemed small for his age, and half of me wondered if he was just sickly with how pale and thin he seemed. His head reached just past my shoulder. Maybe half it was due to the fact that I have always been tall and tan myself. My Dad gave me my height, it wasn't like I could fight genetics, and working outside on the farm naturally made me darker skinned. In a few months, it would fade away anyhow.

I started noticing Steve's accent more and more as we talked. It wasn't overpowering, but he would pronounce some words differently. I also noticed he seemed shy, as if it was taking everything he had to carry on a conversation with me when we first started talking. Luckily, that started to slip away as he became more comfortable with me.

"Which Avenger is your favorite?" Steve asked, but no longer was his mood as care free as it was a moment ago. I paused to think for only a moment.

"Captain America." I answered.

"Why?" Steve asked, seeming somewhat surprised.

"Well, it seems like if I was in the invasion that happened in New York a few years back, he would be the one I would feel safe around. He just seems very protective and self-assured, kind of like my Dad. Does that seem weird?" I asked, looking up at Steve. He gave me a thoughtful look back.

"No, it makes sense. He was my favorite too." Steve said, and I didn't notice how he said was and not is until I was lying on my bed that night.

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So again, thank you all. The more people who read and review give me inspiration to continue the story. Let me know if it's any good.

Sincerely,

Nicole WillKillYou


	3. Not Quite Normal

Thank you for everyone who is reading. It makes me feel so excited all day long until I get to post another chapter. That's probably why I'm posting them so quickly. Please, please give me some love and review if you want me to continue the story.

BIG THANK YOU TO Kai-Aala. First and only reviewer swag right there!

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Steve- Not Quite Normal

The air in Washington was clearer than what I was used to in New York. It helped my asthma a great deal, but still I had the daily tightening in my chest. I hated that feeling, as if I was on the edge of an attack. I guess it was just something I had to get used to again.

Sadly, I had to get used to all the medications for the numerous illnesses I forgot I ever had. My throat hurt after swallowing all the pills the shield scientists had given me to take every morning, afternoon, and night. There were those for my asthma, the anemia, and more than I wanted to think about.

There were also those for the side effects from Project Rebirth. I didn't truly believe any of it would help me become the Captain again but I took the supplements to humor the people down in the labs.

The scientists were so obsessed with my condition that they created an excessive diet plan that they monitored. I kept track of everything I ate in a journal that contained all of my other stats. I sent it to Stark Tower every month, along with a blood sample and letters to the team. I still wasn't that big of a fan of emails.

I still felt like a lab rat, more so now than after Project Rebirth in the first place. I wake up and start my day by recording how much sleep I got that night. Then I went to the bathroom for a shower and to measure my weight. Once dressed, I would make breakfast and record all of it into that darn journal. Today I was having simple scrambled eggs, toast, and milk. Nothing too exciting for the lab to read.

By the time I even leave the apartment, I feel sick and tired of the journal securely packed in my bag right next to my art supplies and even more medicine.

Today was the first official day of classes. I was so confused about my emotions that I wasn't sure how I felt. I assumed I was excited, but in reality it felt like I was preparing to step into a battlefield. Why was something that normal people every day with ease seem so strange and terrifying to me? Was it because I wasn't used to being normal anymore?

Pulling my jacket closer around myself, I started the short walk from my apartment to the campus. The leaves were just beginning to fall, yet I was freezing cold. I found it ironic how the man who was frozen for seventy years was now shivering in sixty degree weather.

I walked into my psychology class half an hour early. I was the first to arrive, so I took the liberty to choose a seat in the back row by the wall. More students began to trickle in as I organized my spot. That's when I heard her.

"Mister Steve!" Denver said a bit too loudly from the door way. I felt myself tense as I looked over to her. She gave me a wide smile and a quick wave. I think I may have smiled back. I wasn't sure of it though. Her amount of energy in the morning was disturbing.

I wasn't sure what to make of Denver when I first met her. Weird was the first word to pop into my head. I was still trying to determine if it was a bad thing or not. She seemed nice though. Truthfully, she was the first person I had a real conversation with since arriving. I wouldn't have even bothered if she wasn't so persistent in making me talk. Finally, I decided it was best to just indulge her with a few words. Little did I know it would lead to my first 'normal' friendship since the 1940's.

Well, to be honest, Denver didn't quite fit the definition of normal.

She made her way across the room to take the seat next to mine. She dropped the bag on top of the table but didn't sit down. Instead she chooses to shift her weight from one foot to the other as she dug for her materials in her backpack.

"I thought you were an art student? Didn't expect to share any classes with ya." Denver said while pulling out every color of highlighter possible from her bag.

I shrugged simply. "It seemed like an interesting class. I can't graduate with art classes alone." I said in a light way, watching as she walked around the row to pace in the row in front of me. She was reminding me more of an energetic puppy by the minute.

"It's a great class. I took one like it in high school and loved it. Knowing about the mind and how it ticks is fascinating. Helps explain a lot of things we never really noticed before. Trust me when I say, Freud is gonna blow your mind." Denver said, a secretive grin curling at her lips. I had no clue who Freud was and wasn't sure I wanted to by how Denver laughed at my expression.

"Don't worry. The professor will ease you into the class before he dumps Freud on you. Don't want to twist your mind too badly." She said, pulling her hair out of its ponytail before putting it back up more sloppily then it was before. A few seconds later, she did it again.

"Are you ok?" I asked, noticing again as she began to pull the rubber band out of her hair to fix her hair.

"Yeah, just nervous. Kind of like before a game, where I can't sit down cause I'm both excited and terrified. Dad always said it was the body's fight or flight system kicking in. I get it pretty bad." Denver laughed, her pacing slowing down and letting her hair hang in lose waves of chocolate as she noticed how franticly she was moving.

"What game do you play?" I asked, actually trying to start a conversation for once. The team would be proud of me, actually talking to a girl and all.

"Softball. Well, I did. You can only play for so long in college before you have to put your career dreams first." Denver said. I could literally see the tension starting to seep away as she began talking about the game. I could tell she loved it.

"I really like baseball myself, but I was always too sick to play as a kid." I admitted, feeling proud how I was able to tell the truth without admitting any secrets. "If I could, I'd be a second-baseman."

"I was never good enough at diving for second. I was a pitcher and first-baseman. I was mainly a pitcher though. I was so dumb when I was little, thinking I'd just walk onto the rubber and start pitching. It took me years before I was any good." Denver said, shaking her head in humor at herself. A happy grin spread across her face in memory. "I did make my Mom happy as a Drunk in a liquor store though. She may have loved the game more than I did." Denver said, laughing. "The umpire's hated her. She was always the loudest parent on the bleachers. You could even hear her in the outfield."

"My friend Bucky was like that. He used to embarrass me so bad whenever we went to a game. His face would turn red as he screamed at the blues." I laughed. Denver joined the laughter as well. I found myself pausing and listening to her laugh. It was high, broken by sheer amusement, and so true sounding. She wasn't laughing to be nice, she was laughing because she actually thought it was funny. Maybe having Denver as a friend wouldn't be a bad thing.

The Professor walked in and Denver quickly walked around the table to sit next to me. I beginning writing the date and teachers name when she turned to me.

"Steve?" She asked, almost shy as she whispered to me. I kept my eyes forward as I answered.

"Yes?" I asked, half distracted as the Professor began to talk.

"Thanks." She said, giving me a kind smile and holding onto my eyes as blue met hazel.

"What for?" I asked, eyebrows knotting in confusion

"For helping me calm down. And for understanding." She said, her smile growing a little more wide before she returned her attention to the Professor. Again, I found myself staring at her before smiling to myself. Having Denver as a friend could definitely be a good thing.

"You're welcome."

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Is Steve breaking more out of his shield? (yes, it was that cheesy of a reference) What do ya'll think of Denver? Is she normal or weird, and in a good or bad way? Let me know because I love reviews.

Sincerely,

Nicole WillKillYou


	4. Making a Team

Hey Guys. Sorry it took longer to post then usual. It isn't as long as last time, but that's because I decided to split one chapter into two pieces. Meaning, another chapter should be up real soon. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to **comment!**

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Denver

"Please!" I begged Steve.

We were walking together around the school after psychology on Friday. This Monday marked the end of my first week away from home. I had to admit that it was a strange transition.

I wasn't used to not being able to go home after school every day. I really, really missed my dog. The poor girl probably missed me too. I hoped my Dad was remembering to feed her.

On Wednesday, I wasn't sure what I was going to do with my weekend. That's when I saw the poster hanging on the corkboard in the residence hall. It was a paintball tournament versus a neighboring school. It was perfect! Now I needed three more people for my group. I managed to wrangle up Trish, my roommate, easily.

Trish reminded me of a porcelain doll. She had straight as a pin hair that was inky black. She was a mixture of Chinese and French, which she told me proudly in the first hour I met her. She was short, maybe even more so than Steve.

"So basically you want me to shoot at people? With paint? That sounds fabulous!" Trish smiled up at me oddly from her contorted yoga pose on the floor. I had a feeling that Trish was going to enjoy this weekend a lot more then I had originally thought. Also, it seemed that there may be a violent part of her as well.

Next on my team was my lab partner from biology; Ray was a tall, gangly guy with neatly combed brown hair and thick glasses. The man was a genius but a little socially awkward. It was hard to get him to talk. Once I managed to get him speaking, I understood only half of what he said. He was what I considered a 'my kind of' person. A person with a lot of potential but rarely ever noticed. Those were the people with the best personality.

He was part of the team once I got the word 'paintball' out. For the rest of class, I saw him making various strategies. I felt myself smiling by how excited he was by the idea.

Now I only needed one more, and I knew the perfect soldier for the mission.

"Come on! It will be fun. And you have to." I said, trailing after Steve as he tried walking faster and away from me.

"Now, pray tell. Why do I have to again?" Steve asked over his shoulder.

I didn't know what his deal was. It was just a simple game of paintball. It wasn't like I was asking him to run a marathon.

"Because! You are my best friend at this school and it's part of the best friend manual. Friends don't let friends get covered in paint alone." I said simple, like it was basic knowledge.

Steve paused and let me catch up to him. His eyes were narrowed at me, and I knew I almost had him. He was against the ropes and I just had to make the final blow.

"And I'll buy you pizza." Almost there…"And a root beer float." Steve rolled his eye but couldn't hold his annoyed look anymore. He wasn't smiling, but close. I got him.

"Yes! Thank you, thank you. You really are my best friend!" I said, jumping up and down with excitement.

"You haven't even known me more than a week." Steve said incomprehensibly.

"Well, I'm a very good judge of character." I smiled, satisified, before grabbing his arm. "Come on. Let's get some lunch." I stated, leading Steve to the cafeteria.

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Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. What do you think of the team? Give me a fifth person to add and I'll love you!

Sincerely,

Nicole WillKillYou


	5. Carry a Torch

TA-DA! I'm back. Who missed me? I'm starting to slow down with my updates and I'm sorry. I'm trying to make them more detailed. I would also love any reviews I could get? I'm I acting like Steve enough? Do I have his character down? Let me know!

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Denver

Something new I learned about Trish was that she is into fashion.

When I finally got back to my room after class Friday, there was a pile of fabric on my bed. Confused, I picked it up and examined it.

"That's your uniform." Trish said from her bed. She was clearly proud because she was already wearing hers.

"You do know that we don't leave until tomorrow morning, right?" I asked, looking at her get-up from head to toe.

"Yeah, but I wanted to show off. Now go put it on. Now." She said while pointing one freshly painted nail to the bathroom we shared.

Not finding the energy to fight back, I followed her orders. A minute later, I emerged in a pair of dark tan cargos and a camo styled long sleeve shirt. I wouldn't actually wear the shirt if it weren't for the padding through-out the clothes.

I started moving my arms around to see how flexible the material was. I was pleasantly surprised. It seemed Trish really knew what she was doing. It was warm yet light enough to move quickly in. The pants had large enough of pockets to store any supplies I may need for tomorrow.

"How long have you been planning on attending this tournament again? Cause it seems like you've been expecting it for a while." I said to Trish, plopping a seat on her bed, I examined what she was cutting now. It looked like the same fabric my shirt was made out of, but instead of grey and green, it was darker shades of brown and green.

"Only since you told me about it on Wednesday. I am a very productive person." She said with a smile. She finished cutting and then began sewing a seam up. She was really fast at it, and all by hand. Eventually I got bored watching and went to do some of my homework.

About ten minutes, she threw the new shirt at me. It hit me square in the face. It was smaller than mine. I had a good idea of whose it was.

"How'd you even know Steve's size? Plus, he didn't even say yes until today." I said with an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"I'm going to tell you a secret. I'm a ninja, Denver. Shhh, don't tell anyone though. I'm undercover. Don't blow it!" Trish said in a serious tone. For a second I had the inkling of believing her before she busted out in maniacal laughter.

Yep, Trish may be a LOT stranger than I originally gave her credit for. But she was definitely useful.

"Have you started on Ray's yet?" I asked. Trish only gave me a dirty look as if I were insulting her.

"Really Denver? Sweetie, please. I'm a ninja. No duh I got the lanky giants one done first. He was loads easier then Steve. That boy just ain't proportioned right. We got you and Ray, the giants, and me and Steve, the wonderful, amazing midgets of awesome." Trish said.

"Now why do you have so many more adjectives then me and Ray?" I laughed at her exaggeration.

"I'm short. I need my perks when I can get them. Oh, oh, can my nickname be fun sized? Please?" Trish said with excitement.

"Sure, and I'll be Colorado or whatever you wanna call me." I said, getting up and heading to my phone. I was hoping I could catch Steve before he headed home for the night. I pulled out the piece of paper he gave me with his phone number on. Unfolding it, I dialed him up.

"Hello?" Steve familiar voice called through the phone.

"Hey Steve, this is Denver. Are you still at school?" I asked while pacing from one side to the other of the room. I was changing directions frequently by how small the room was.

"No, actually I'm just arriving at the apartment now. Why?" Steve asked.

"Shoot. Well, I got something for you that I wanted you to have before tomorrow. Guess it can wait though." I said, a little more upset.

"Well, you can just come over to my place and drop it off then." Steve suggested.

"Sure, that sounds great. Where do you live?" I asked, then jotting it down on the same paper as the phone number. Luckily I had an idea of where it is.

"Ok, I'll be there in a bit." I said. "Thanks Steve." And then I hung up.

I stared at the phone for a while. I had an idea. I started dialing in another number.

"Hey Ray, you busy…Good, can you be over to my dorm in like five minutes…Great, see you in a bit." I hung up before looking directly at Trish.

"So, are you done with everything?" I asked. Trish only nodded.

"Good, cause I owe someone some pizza and root beer." I smiled.

Steve

After Denver hung up on me, I did a quick search throughout my apartment. I was so stupid. Before leaving shield, I was told to keep my private life exactly that, private. Inviting someone here was a risk. I didn't know what would tip them off since I was used to it.

Was the color of my walls too white washed? Were the rooms to clean? Too dirty? Should I have a room mate? What was the normal living quarters of a 20th century college student supposed to look like?

I was having a minor panic attack. Calm down Steve, you've been through World War II and an alien invasion. Inviting a girl to your apartment should not be this stressful.

But, really it was. Captain America went through World War II. Captain America went through an alien invasion. Captain America was a super hero. I was Steve. Just Steve, the boy from Brooklyn who was going to art school. The kid who can just barely talk to girls.

I was an idiot.

I would be ashamed to admit it out loud, but the moment my doorbell rang, I did find myself for a short moment lifted from the ground as I jumped in surprise. I was flipping my wig real good.

Breath Steve. In then out. Yes, that's right. Not too much. Okay, now you're getting light headed. A little less. Well, don't stop entirely. Back to in and out. Breath, just Breath. When did breathing become so hard? I was such a fuddy-duddy.

I opened the door and was surprised by what I saw. Instead of one girl, I was met with two and a boy. Denver was in front. Before anything could really process, a bottle of root beer was held in front of my face.

"Promised you pizza and root beer floats. I'm here to deliver." She said with a smile. "I hope this isn't incredibly intruding, but I thought we could have a team meeting before tomorrow to try to figure out how we're going to win." She said, seeming a little embarrassed.

"No, sure, that's swell. Come in." I said, taking a step back to allow them in, proving that I was a push over.

"Thanks." Denver said excitedly. She carried the boxes of pizza to the counter. She also seemed to have ice cream along with her root beer. I smiled at how she delivered on her promise.

"So Steve, say hello to the team." Denver said dramatically, waving a hand over the two other people.

"First we have our ninja. The amazing, wonderful, and fashionably talented Miss Trish." Denver said while gesturing grandly towards the second girl. She was short, surprisingly more so than myself. Her hair was dark, and her eyes just slightly lighter. She smiled.

I reached out to shake her hand. She looked at it for a moment, before laughing. She took it and shook heartily.

"Denver, I like him. He has manners. So rare now-a-days." Trish said while releasing my hand. "Nice to meet another solider for the war on paint." She said to me, winking at her joke. She didn't know how close the soldier remark hit to home.

"And this tall and strapping young man shall be our genius-wonder-boy of science. Introducing Dr. Ray." She said towards the boy, clapping his shoulder while he blushed.

"I'm no doctor yet." He argued, but still smiled at the complement. He was humble, a good quality in a soldier. Great, now even I was referring to us as soldiers.

"So Steve, do you think you can make this rack-shack of a team work?" Denver asked. She stood in front of me with both hands on her hips. Playing along, I circled around them and taking in little details.

Finally with a dramatic sigh, I answered. "I think I might be able to make it work." With an insulted laugh, Denver wacked the back of my head.

An hour later, I found myself sitting on the couch and laughing with my fellow 'soldiers'. The pizza was just being finished as we began with the root beer floats. The ice cream was half melted, but that was how the best floats were made.

"Oh, I almost forgot. This is your uniform. There's even pads in them so the paintballs won't hurt as much." Denver said, while digging into her bag. She tossed the clothes at me. I was mildly surprised that they knew my size, but Trish gave me a knowing smile. Maybe she did have some ninja in her.

"So the buses will meet at 0600 tomorrow. We should probably leave and let poor Steve get his beauty sleep."

"Sorry again for barging in like this Steve. I didn't really think about how rude it was until I was half way done knocking on your door." Denver said while finishing the dishes an hour later.

"Oh no, it was fun actually. I had a good time. It's been a while since I've hung out with people." I said, the term 'hung out' coming out clumsily.

"Well, that's great. It's been a while for me too." Denver said, seeming to go a hundred miles away for a moment before coming back. "I think this year will be very memorable. What about you?" She asked me.

I looked up at her and noticed the white teeth gleaming in her smile. Her hazel eyes had flecks of green that I never noticed before. Her hair smelled good even. If I wasn't careful, I would find myself carrying a torch for her. That wouldn't be good. It would make everything too complicated. The whole reason I went away was to be 'normal Steve', but that didn't mean I wasn't still hiding a secret. Captain America was still real, and many enemies didn't like him. I f anything happened, there would be a lot of issues.

"Steve?" I heard Denver ask. I then noticed how I was getting away from myself. I only thought Denver was keen. It wasn't a head over heels affair yet.

"Yeah, memorable is a word you could use for it." I said back.

Denver seemed to study me then. If she had a super ability right now, I would swear it was mind reading. I gulped with nerves. She just shook her head before gathering her stuff.

"Well I'll see you bright and early tomorrow soldier." She said, while giving me a fake salute and another smile.

"Yes ma'am." I said as I watched my team go home for the night.

* * *

Also, a big thank you to Kai-Aala. Your amazing and my most loved follower. Thank you for helping with the story. And I'll be needing help for the next one. Got any ideas?

Sincerely,

Nicole WillKillYou


	6. UnderDogs

Hello, yes I'm still alive. Sorry it's taken so long to post. With sports and school, my life is hectic and I can only manage a few paragraphs between classes ( and in classes) at a time. I really want to give a shout out to Kai_Aala for being my first and most loyal fan. Thank you. I also want to thank my newer fans, Chocolate bear, gffdutu, and Renee for their inspiring reviews. I wouldn't be posting if it weren't for you. Thank you x 1000000000000000 etc. Hope you enjoy.

Denver- Underdogs

"Morning, you hate me don't you?" I half sighed and half yelled as my alarm blared right into my ear. Interesting tid-bit about me, I'm not a morning person. Well, it's not actually the morning's fault so it wouldn't be right to blame it. The morning is actually beautiful, with the rising sun, morning mist and all the other poetic references. What I don't like is the fact that I have to leave my very warm bed to step out into the very cold world.

That's where I found myself now, at the brink of the warm sheets and the cold hard floor of the dorm. I heard Trish groaning something in an alien dialect from her own bed. At least I wasn't the only one part of the club.

"Trish!" I screamed, trying to wake her up. With a yelp, Trish rolled in her bed suddenly which caused her to fall to the floor with a thud. She looked like a burrito with the comforter wrapped around her tightly. I tried not to laugh, I really did. But I just couldn't. I howled with laughter as Trish tried to escape her prison of softness. I could feel her glaring at me but I couldn't see her past the tears watering in my eyes from the effort to breath past the giggles.

It seemed Trish had managed to escape when a mass of flying fluff smacked right into the center of my face. There she stood, hands on her hips and a look that could kill if her hair hadn't been in such disarray. It only caused me to laugh harder. Trish sure didn't appreciate that.

"You have no shame. No mercy at all. You are heartless!" Trish chewed me as I desperately tried to breath. I was beginning to go light headed from my mini maniac attack. I think she was going a little dramatic on me, but she seemed completely honest. Sure enough, she was not a morning person either.

"Well then, aren't you glad I'm on your side?" I breathed out, my voice catching past my abused vocal cords. One shouldn't laugh like that this early in the morning. It wasn't good for the health.

Trish only scowled at me before she called out a firm 'dibs' on using the bathroom first. It was only far for psychologically damaging her poor mind this morning.

I heard the shower begin to run moments later. I liked to shower at night while Trish liked to in the mornings. I didn't like to go to bed with all the dirt, sweat and whatever still on me. I would stay up and feel gross, then wake up and feel worse.

Trish argued that it wasn't good for the hair and made styling it harder. I just looked at her before smirking. I wasn't the kind of girl who worried about that 'girly' stuff. I didn't judge those who did, only that I thought it was a waste of time to do it every day. I could think of better ways of using the time, such as sleeping in just a little longer. Sure, I tried to look good sometimes but those were reserved for special events.

I guess that point of view came from years on the swim team and softball. What point was there to put the effort forth to try to look good when the image would be ruined the moment you jumped into a pool? It seemed pointless to try to make you hair look good when you were just going to throw it up into a ponytail to keep it out of your eyes during practice. Plus, it was a whole of a lot easier.

With a sigh, I rolled out of bed. I began stretching to relieve the stiffened in my tired joints. They popped like a squirrel had put nuts in-between them to have them cracked. Reaching down, I tried to touch my toes but couldn't. This wasn't surprising since I wasn't very proportional; with long legs and a short torso. Yet I couldn't sprint to save my life. It was so unfair.

I changed into my paintball uniform before pulling my hair up into its signature ponytail. After, I put on my baseball cap. My mom bought me it during a mariner game when I started high school120. It was my lucky hat and it had abused edges around the bill from how many times I've worn it.

Trish was still in the bathroom after I was done packing for the day. I was getting antsy by this point. Just like on the first day of classes, I was getting the fight or flight response that was normal when I was excited and nervous. I tapped my foot and tried to be patient. Anyone who really knew me would be laughing right now. Me, Patient? Please. Seriously though, how long did it take to shower?

"Trish, I'm going to go ahead and buy coffee for the tam" I yelled through the door. "I'll meet you at the bus. Don't you dare be late." I emphasized my point with a slam of my palm against the door. I heard a muffled 'ok' before I left.

A half an hour later, I stood at where the bus was going to pick us up, balancing four sups in my arms. A few other people were standing around but none were from my team. I set the cups on the ground before sitting next to them.

I felt someone coming up behind me. The leaves crunched louder behind me as the steps got closer. Turning around, I expected one of my team mates. Instead, it was a stranger. A tall, good looking stranger.

I already didn't like him. I felt myself tense as I accidently made eye contact with him. He smiled and I frowned. For some odd reason, he took this as an invitation to start a conversation with me. I wasn't exactly sure what he was saying as I mumbled yeah's and no's.

'Please go away. Please go. I don't like you. You freak me out. I know, I'm weird. Just go away.' Were the random ramblings spinning through my head for what felt forever.

Finally, I saw Steve walking up to the bus stop. I smiled past the stranger to Steve. I waved him over. The stranger seemed surprised by my sudden good mood until he looked behind him to look down at Steve. Now, he just looked confused as I started talking to Steve instead of him.

"Morning." I said brightly to Steve as I patted the spot on the ground next to me. He took the hint and sat down. The stranger finally recognized that our 'conversation' was over as he walked away towards another group of girls who seemed a lot more inviting then me.

"That was kind of rude of you." Steve said, taking the lack coffee I was offering him.

"I don't like his type." I said, eyeing the Stranger, the official name I gave him since I don't remember his real one, past the rim of my tea.

Steve gave me a confused look, and I knew what was coming. People always had the same response to my weird tendencies. Then he asked "Now, what type is that?"

"You know, the tall, strong, handsome type. The football players, prom kings, and class presidents. The one's that use their bodies to manipulate and hurt others. The guy's that only care about themselves." I said, frowning down at the grass at my feet. I kicked a stray leaf in my frustration of the topic.

"Not every good looking man is like that." Steve said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. He sounded like he at least understood what I was trying to explain. That was a start.

"Yeah, but the one's I'm used to are. And yes, I am extremely biased. In high school, there was this guy called Parker. He was 'that' type. He messed me up pretty good." I said, remembering my high school days with a cringe.

I quickly changed the subject, not wanting to think too deeply about my past. "Anyway, hanging out with the underdogs is always entertaining." I said with a goofy smile. Yeah, I was trying too hard.

"Are you calling me an underdog?" Steve asked, a look of hurt almost crossing his face.

"In my book, it's a complement. It means there is something about you that's unique. Different is a good thing. It makes you stand out. That's how I noticed you in the first place. You seemed like an honest to goodness type of guy, something that's missing now of days. Also, you looked as lonely as I felt. I knew you would be a great guy to talk to so I did, and I'm happy I did." I said, nudging him in the side. He blushed at the complement as he shyly smiled back. I guess he wasn't used to complements about how he was being different made him better.

"That's how I noticed Ray and Trish. They're underdogs too. Just like me and you. Those are the types that recognize each other and stick together through thick and thin. The loyal kind, just like dogs." I said, smiling with a wink at my own joke.

"I guess that could be our teams' name. The Underdogs." Steve said, smiling and joining me in my cheesy ways.

"That's perfect. Cheers to the Underdogs. Let our bite be stronger than our bark." I said, laughing as I raised my tea to lightly tap against Steve's coffee. Just as we both broke out laughing, the rest of the Underdogs came to join us.

TaDah! Whatcha think? Do you think Denver is more of a weirdo, or does it just make her seem more loveable? To all you Underdogs out there, let your bite be stronger than your bark! Also, please review. It is a huge inspiration. Thank you.


	7. Dear Readers

Dear Readers,

Don't worry, I'm still continuing this story. The reason why it has been a while since you heard from me is because finals are next week and I've been doing last minute cramming. I'm sorry for not posting this notice sooner. I WILL BE BACK after finals, which ends in two weeks. I need to focus on my grades now so I can continue to play softball at the school. Honestly, my spirits are a little low right now and I really want some words of encouragement about either my story or your own college success stories. I'd even take advice and criticism, just to know that people are actually taking the time to read the story. And yes, I am begging. You can write it as a review and I would really appreciate it. It would help me survive in these next few chaotic weeks.

Sincerely,

Nicole WillKillYou


	8. Back of the Bus

I am a terrible, terrible person. So sorry it has been so long since I have updated this story. School has been crazy and then I haven't had a life yet this summer. So now, if anyone is still reading this, is the new chapter. Please send reviews to let me know how I'm doing. Thanks, Nicole WKY

Steve- Back of the Bus

I watched as Trish chatted animatedly to Denver, who didn't seem to be paying attention. I couldn't blame her. Trish was talking about pastel and neon colors like they could be the cure for cancer. Truly it amazed me on what girls seemed to find worthy to talk about.

"Oh Denver, you would look so good in pink. A sundress in a rose shade or even fuchsia would do so much for your tan." Trish gushed. I saw Denver cringe at the idea.

"Why not just a good ole pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt? It's a classic. I got a great coke shirt, faded red with the cool white cursive writing. Or maybe just a plain white shirt." Denver said, obviously trying to test Trish. It worked as it was Trish's turn to cringe.

"Jean's don't allow you to show off those great legs of yours. How the heck are you going to get any boys?" Trish accused, waving her finger at Denver the way my mother used to when I was little. This caused me to laugh, which I hid as a cough. Denver caught my eye with a smirk, obviously not mistaking my laugh.

"Well you might find this shocking, but I'm at school for my degree in physical therapy, not the study of the opposite sex." Denver said in a serious tone until she laughed at the last word. "Plus, I think my farmers tan from my T-shirts is mighty attractive." This time I tried nothing to hide my amusement at the conversation as I erupted in big, embarrassing chokes of a laugh. Ray seemed to think of it as another lecture as he gazed almost critically at the two bickering girls. I really hoped he wasn't taking any mental notes on the conversation.

"Blasphemy!" Trish gasped behind her hand. Her eyes were wide and dramatic; as if she was told she committed a sin. This caused Denver to just laugh harder. When her voice began to break from the laughter, Ray finally started laughing. I jumped at the loud chuckles.

That's when an old school bus chugged its way up to us. I eyed the yellow monster with a wary eye. It's been a long time since I've traveled on anything besides jets, motorcycles, or dark-tinted SUVs. Now that I was thinking about it, I really missed my bike. Maybe I could talk Stark into delivering it for me from the Towers' garage.

Now the person to my right was an opposite story. Denver seemed to perk up like a puppy when she noticed the bus. It's odd to see a twenty year old jumping in glee to ride on a bus. But Denver really didn't match the mold. She pulled me along with her once the bus parked all the way to the back of the bus before anyone else could board. She smiled broadly once we took the seat as if she won something.

Ray and Trish were able to move through the crowd to sit in front of us. We talked about random things while we waited for the rest of the teams to board the bus. The guy Denver didn't like sat in the front row, as far away from us as possible. It seemed Denver look over and seemed relieved by the distance.

The bus growled to life a few seconds later. I found myself lifted off of the seat and landing back on the vinyl covering with a thud. Denver erupted in giggles. I looked over at her incredulously. She tried to talk again but was interrupted as we both flew into the air again. This caused a fresh round of giggles not only from Denver, but surprisingly Ray. The two shared a knowing smile.

"The back seats always give you the best air. During High school, there was this one pot hole. I hit my head against the roof sometimes if I wasn't careful." Ray said, throwing his hands above his head before the next bump like he was on a roller coaster. This time I was better prepared as I shot into the air. Ok, I admit it. It was incredibly childish but really fun. Soon I was roaring with laughter too.

Once we were off the campus, there were no longer any speed bumps. It allowed the group to settle down and start talking again. Trish was whining at Denver about how she ruined her hair. Denver just smirked evilly.

"Well maybe you should just use a ponytail. Then you wouldn't have to worry about it." Denver suggested as she adjusted the baseball cap she had on better. Trish scowled at her, causing Denver to put her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay. Don't do that. Just don't hurt me." Denver said half seriously.

Trish turned away, nose high in the air in her tizzy. Denver just shrugged at Trish's annoyance before turning to me.

"So Steve, let's talk." She said, sitting with her legs folded in front of her.

"About?" I asked, not sure what to talk about.

"Anything, everything, or something." Denver suggested. "Whatever grabs your fancy?"

"Hmmm…" I said, buying time to think. "Well, let's talk about your home life."

"Why my home life? Why not yours?" She asked.

I frowned at this. With all that's happened in my life. I wasn't sure what home was. How do you explain being born around ninety years ago? Exactly, you don't because you can't unless you want to be sent to a loony bin.

"I don't really like talking about it." I said honestly. Denver seemed to understand as she started talking about her life. She was born in the country and I was able to tell her I was born in the city. She said she couldn't tell that by how I acted. She said I was too nice for someone who grew up in the city. I rolled my eyes and told her she watched too much TV.

We turned onto a gravel path and the bus began bumping along again. We were surrounded by trees. It reminded me of the outskirts of Italy during the war. I started remembering my times in the war, causing my mind to wander off into not so welcomed territory.

Luckily Denver was able to push me back by her loud laughter at a joke I had missed. Trish and Ray were laughing too, as well as a few random people who must of heard the comment. Denver looked over to me and noticed my lack of amusement. She tilted an eyebrow at me and I just shocked my head at her. That's when I noticed that Denver and I were able to talk without words. When did we get that close? I've only had a handful of people who could, and most were military trained, where it was an essential.

How much had I let Denver in without noticing?


	9. Battle of Paint

Hey ya'll. I'm back. Yes, two chapters in one month. GASP! Here is the long waited for paint ball scene. Let me know what you think. I've only gone once so I don't have much experience but I used what I had. Enjoy!

Denver- Battle of Paint

It looked like the paint ball place was at an old Christmas tree farm. I watched as we drove onto the gravel drive, bumping along as we did. A few forts were built randomly threw out the farm and other obstacles to maneuver around. Basically to me, it looked like a jacked up version of a Chuckie Cheese's play structure. The only difference was instead of a ball pit, you had a few mud pits.

I looked over to see Steve eyeing the field with a critical eye. I could see the gears clicking in his head as he surveyed everything. There seemed to be a distant look to his eyes that I didn't like. It looked too sad. I none too gently bumped him with my elbow to snap him back to the present. It worked as he came back with a start. He gave a confused look before shaking his head, fully coming out of it with a sheepish smile.

"You were in the clouds, Mister Steve." I said, waving my hand in the air as if I could brush the clouds away.

"Yeah, I guess I was. Thanks for pulling me back down." He said with a cute side smirk. I really, really hoped I didn't blush.

The bus pulled up to a stop then. We waited as the teams in front of us got out first. I got quiet as anxious butterflies began swarming in my stomach. It had been a while since I felt the familiar jitters from my softball days. That made my train of thought shift back to softball, something that consumed most of my child hood. It had been too long since I had practiced. I should fix that when I get back. Now I had to focus on the task at hand.

We finally got out of the bus just as the instructor was describing how the game was played. The first game we would be playing was capturing the flag. Pretty basic rules. Each team had a flag on different sides of the field and the goal was to steal the other teams' flag and get it back to where yours is kept first.

The second game was last man standing. Basically it was like dodge ball. You try to be the last team standing and eliminate everyone from the other team. In both games, once you were hit with the other teams color, you were out.

After the instructor finished telling us all of the rules, he split us up into 2 major teams. There ended up being twelve on each side, and I was unfortunate to get the guy from before on mine. Yes, I know I'm weird but I really don't trust guys like him.

Parker really did a number on me with his friends, and I don't like any guy that could be considered cute being too personal with me. I can handle it in class room settings at a minimum to get the job done, but anything outside of it never worked. Yes, I'm a big old bias meanie. It's not that I hated them; I just really didn't like talking to them for a number of reasons. One was that I become flustered when trying to talk to them. Two is always question why they were talking to me in the first place. Three was what was there hidden meaning and what were they planning to do. Four is that there is always an ulterior motive for someone like that to talk to someone like me. Paranoid, yet safe.

My team was given blue colored paint balls while the other was given red. They also gave us colored straps to tie to our arms to indicate which team we were on and face masks to avoid any lost eyes or such. A new instructor came to us and led us to one side of the field, where our base was. I had no clue where the other teams' base was. These guys in referee jackets with black and white strips were through-out the field to watch when someone was hit and to send them back to their own base to wait out the game until they could go in again. They even had little whistles like the guys in soccer games.

A loud whistle blew and people started running every which way. I just kind of stood there like an idiot. My brain eventually caught up to me as I saw the red team started to close in to me. I started shooting at them while I dove behind a wall of plywood for cover. My tumble was a little too hard as my back slammed into the wall.

Have I ever told you that I have a weird sense of luck? Sometimes it's good and others it can be bad. Most of the time though it seemed to have an ironic touch to it. Like when I'm rushing to class because I woke up late only to find out class was canceled. Things you find extremely annoying at first, been then funny later after you give it a little time to settle. This is one of those times.

I must be fatter than I thought as I hit the plywood with my back, because with a cracking sound, it started falling over away from me. Scrambling to catch it did no good as it hit the ground. So there I found myself sitting in the middle of an open field surrounded by at least four of the red team members.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I said as a wave of red balls of paint came rushing at me at what seemed like every direction. I don't know why my brain choose that moment to remember this, but the image of the hulk being surrounded by the chaturi I saw on the news before filled my head. Sure these weren't about thirty angry and dangerous aliens shooting at me with lasers, but in my mind it felt like it. I don't think I put up as much of a fight as the hulk did though, as I found myself coated in the red paint from head to toe. I think I lost this round.

I frowned at the ground for a moment. Well that had been dumb. That's when I heard the guns going off again. Really, hadn't they covered me in enough paint? Well it turned out that it wasn't the red teams shooting but someone on my own as the four red members were quickly hit right smack dab in the middle of each of their chests with my teams blue paint. I looked around quickly to spot the member of my team that had avenged my paint like death.

I couldn't have been more shocked by who I saw. Steve was walking around in a crouched form, eyeing the surroundings with a trained vision. He looked intimidating, which was really weird to call Steve. Sweet ole Steve who didn't know what Call of Duty was seemed to be a paint ball god. He then looked over to me.

He had a faraway look to his eyes as he stared at me. I literally saw him jerk upwards at the sight of the paint covering me. I guess the red paint did look eerily like blood. He wasn't fully here, that was easy to tell by just how far off his eyes seemed to be. He looked so much older behind his glass face panel that I questioned who he was for a moment. Steve seemed like a completely different person, and it kind of scared me. Did Steve have some form of PTSD?

A person moved in the trees to our left. In a movement to fast to track by eye Steve had gunned the guy down before I could make out what team he was from. Eventually the culprit stepped out, a bright blue spot covering in the exact middle of chest and red strap tightly wrapped around his arm.

A horn went off, signaling that someone had won the round. Steve looked back to me, seeming to revert back to what I thought of as my Steve. He held his hand down to me, and then noticed I was still sitting on the ground like an idiot. Blushing, I took his hand gratefully, rising to my full head taller than Steve's height.

"Soldier Steve to the rescue." I joked once I picked my gun off the ground.

Steve gave a sideways smile and I felt like I was missing out on a joke.

That's when I heard the stumping footsteps quickly approaching behind us. Steve actually stepped in between me and whoever was coming. I looked down at him, confused beyond belief. Skinny Steve was going to protect, he even looked like he was prepared to bare knuckle box. Maybe paint ball was a little too much stress for him.

Trish in all her 5' not very much more frame came barreling through the trees. Uh oh, maybe Steve should protect me since she looked pissed.

"You never told me that paint balls cause bruises!" she yelled, voice going an octave higher in her rage. I couldn't help it, I laughed really hard. Not only was there a newly formed bruise appearing on her neck like some sort of hickey, but the middle of her hair seemed to be parted with a streak of red. Either someone had terrible aim to hit it like that, or they had perfect aim and intentionally did it. It was hilarious.

"Well look who's talking. What, did you take a bath in the paint?" Trish said, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Cool, with that many spots, you look like a cheetah." Ray said as he magically arrived next to us. "Now that's kinda cool if you get bruises like that." He continued. I just smiled at him and gave a playful meow, which caused him to grin at me.

When we got to the middle of the field, we were the last ones to arrive. The instructor had previously asked whether we wanted to play the first game or go to Last Man Standing. It seemed the second option had won.

"Everyone split up. Once you're hit, go over to your teams' colored box to wait out the rest of the game. Good luck and have fun." He said, before we all separated.

All four of us seemed to have the same idea as we followed Steve's lead. He was back to soldier mode. We went a few minutes away before Steve turned to us. That's when the horn blew.

"Ok. Follow me. Ray takes the back of the group to track whoever comes behind us. Denver, you take right and Trish takes left. We are doing a sweep around the border of the field before we head towards the center." He said. He seemed to be taking this extremely seriously for a game, but still I nodded my head in agreement. He did a single nod before quickly leading the pack.

Trish was the first to get shot in the leg. Steve gunned the guy down easily. Ray and Steve seemed to be the best at the game, and I kind of followed them around like a lost puppy. I was surprised when red paint splattered against Ray's arm. Steve quickly got the two red members out before turning to me.

"Fit yourself under the tree and aim for legs and feet. I'll stay up for longer range." Steve said. I blinked once before I found myself under the tree. I didn't even think about questioning Steve's decision with the amount of authority he seemed to have gained since joining this battle of paint. I got a few guys out but Steve did most of the work. After about ten or so minutes, the horn blew.

Steve helped me out from under the tree. I looked at him, very mush confused. He seemed to get shy again as he avoided my gaze, almost guilty like.

"Sorry. I really get into this kind of stuff." He said.

"You think. I'm just happy you were on my side Mister Steve. Cause that means we are the champions." I sang to the Queen song as we made it back to the center of the field. Steve laughed at my over acting of the song, fully getting out of his military personality from before.

Guess there was a lot about Steve I didn't know. I couldn't wait to figure him out more, because I'm sure I will continue to be surprised by him.

How scared would you be to play against Captain America? I would be terrified! Am I still keeping my people in character? Am I having a good balance between Steve and Denver actions? Am I even writing anything worthwhile? Please (I am begging) let me know with comments and reviews.

Thanks,

Nicole W.K.Y.


	10. Getting in Deep

Hello all who may or may not be reading this. I want to thank everyone who has been reading so far, as well as a few shout outs. To Kaiaala, I made sure that I wasn't rushing too much after you pointed it out. To ym41yum1, I went a little into Steve's point of view here. Also A big YAY to Kai-Aala being my biggest fan and Just Dance231 for being my biggest critic (in a good way).

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Steve- Getting in Deep

Chapter 9

The sound of machine guns filled my ears. Smoke hung heavily in the air, burning into my lungs like a heavy toxin. The echo of thunder crashed in the distance though there was nothing but smoke in the sky, no clouds to see in any direction. It was different assortments of bombs crashing down onto the field for which we played our game of war. The worst noise to hear was the screams. Either they be from pain or blood lust, the screams would forever echo in my ears.

What scared me most about the whole experience was how addictive the violence became. Of course I was horrified when I first entered the battle, but after being in as many fights to survive as I have in the few years I've been in the army; the rush of it becomes a craving. You begin to feel the most animalistic instincts, full of adrenaline and the victory of the kill. Knowing that you were that much stronger, faster, and more clever enough to spare your own life for that few more amount of minutes, hours, or whatever amount of time you were lucky enough to get. After this exposure, the line between terror and bravery is wiped away.

My mind was back in Austria, during my first mission to save the rest of the 107th. I was surrounded by tall pine trees, blocking out the sun. I moved like the fog through the trees, not making a sound. A familiar scream drew my attention. It wasn't one of pain, but more like one of surprise. It drew my attention south ward.

When I made it to the clearing in the trees, I saw a girl with brown hair sticking out of a baseball cap. She was covered in blood from multiple bullet wounds. She was surrounded by four men, guns still trained on her. Mere seconds later, I had successfully targeted the men, but instead of seeing red, I saw blue.

I didn't truly get what was going on until the girl started talking to me. I finally recognized her as Denver, my newest friend at the University. It was the twenty first century and not World War II. I was Steve again, and no longer Captain America.

A few hours later, I found myself sitting in my apartment's living room. I kept remembering things I didn't want to remember. Like when I lost Bucky from the train, when he fell those thousands of feet down to the frozen river. Or when I was setting up my first date with Peggy, knowing I would never make it as the ice became all I saw. It seemed that all my worst memories were surrounded by cold. I found myself shivering. I walked over to the gas fire place. It was remarkable how it was able to light by a simple flick of a switch.

My phone buzzed from the charger. I walked over. It was a text from Denver.

'What's up, Mister Steve? I'm bored!' Was all she said.

It took a while to text her back since I was still unaccustomed to the phone, but I finally managed.

'I'm just sitting here. I'm about to order something for dinner.' I texted back, while smiling at my achievement. Take that Tony and all your technology jokes.

'Wait, don't do anything. I'm inviting myself over. I'll make dinner.' She texted.

I found myself sitting there with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs. I had my music playing in the back ground. Duke Ellington rolled softly through the small apartment. It reflected my depressed mode. The feeling was like glue that you couldn't wash off. It stuck to you and hung heavily around you.

The doorbell rung, and I slowly got up to answer it. I felt like an old man.

"Took you long enough. These are heavy you know." Denver said, sounding slightly annoyed despite her smile.

"Well are you gonna let me in or what? Waiting for a prettier girl or something?" She teased. I rolled my eyes, a trait I had picked up from Natasha. Then I stepped back to let her in.

She took her bags and set fort in my kitchen, one that hadn't been properly used since I had moved in. All the appliances were new but I hardly knew how to use them. Denver looked around the kitchen appreciatively before washing her hands. She then checked the inside of the oven.

"Have you even used any of this?" She asked, pressing buttons to turn it on.

"Does making scrambled eggs and toast count?" I asked.

"You may be good at art, but you fail in home ec. Sorry for the let down." Denver said, before glancing towards my CD player.

"You're music is kind of depressing. Do you mind if I mess with it?" She asked. I just waved my hand towards it with a murmured agreement.

She pulled out a small box from her picket which Bruce once told me was a music player. She somehow managed to attach it to the CD player, which was hard enough to figure out. Next, the sound of Count Basie filled the room. I smiled approvingly.

"I thought it was up your alley, but with a little more life." Denver said as she sort of danced away from the player and back to the kitchen.

"Now I'm gonna make you work for your super." She said, as she handed me the handle part of the peeler.

"What are you making?" I asked as I started on the potatoes she had handed to me.

"Something my Mom made me whenever I had a bad day. And from how you looked on the bus ride back, I think you might need it." She said, giving an almost sympathetic look.

We worked in silence for a while. It wasn't an awkward silence like I was accustomed too, but peacefully. The sound of boiling water and the rhythmic stirring of ingredients mixed well with the swing music in the background.

Eventually I found myself stirring white gravy while Denver worked on frying what she called country fried steak. The garlic mashed potatoes were finished and the broccoli was almost done frying in the oven.

"You know I'm here if you ever need to talk, right Steve? You don't have to get personal, but if you need it I am here for you." Denver said out of nowhere, surprising me. Her voice was calm. She would make a wonderful mother someday, she already had the voice. The tone a mother has when you come home all bruised up from a fight with the local bully which seems to make everything alright. The type of voice you hear in the back of your head that tells you right from wrong.

"Yes. I know you will be. Thank you for that." I said, finding a particular spot of the counter very interesting.

"Okay, well it looks like it's done. Let's dish up." She said, instantly breaking the tension. She clapped her hands together like applauding a team before dishing the food onto the two plates. We both sat on the stools at the kitchen counter and started to eat.

"My mom was a great cook. All country styled stuff like this, which she learned from her grandma. My best memories with her are waking up at the crack of dawn on Thanksgiving and Christmas to start making everything. No one but us was allowed in the kitchen all day long. We never made the same thing twice. One Christmas we had Tacos. It surprised my brother Salem and my Dad so bad." Denver said, laughing at the memory. She moved her mashed potatoes with her fork.

"During her last Christmas, we went back to the traditional Ham and potatoes. She was really sick then, but she never looked sick, only tired. She always woke up early with my Dad when he went out to work on the farm, watching him work from the patio wrapped up in old quilts and humming. She always had really neat hair, which waved perfectly down her back. I could never manage that. She said that it came with age." Denver kept telling her voice getting quieter, as if she were dreaming it. All I could do was nervously swing my legs back in forth since they couldn't touch the floor.

"She'd been fighting the cancer for about almost a year then. I did most of the cooking by myself, with her sitting in the middle of the kitchen in a lazy boy like she was a queen. She kept telling me exactly what to do while she stirred this or that on her lap. It was the best dinner I'll ever have. She had her oldies music on the record machine. She always said it gave the music more soul to have it played like that. She could only stand Christmas music in November, when it first starts playing on the radio. Once it was actually Christmas time, she could only stand it when we ate dinner. Now I like to listen to it every hour during December, and I would leave the station playing loud after I was done with the car. Once my mom drove the car, right when she turned on the engine, the music would blare. She would honk the song for a few seconds in the front yard before driving off when she knew I was home. After that, I always made sure I kept it on the station." She said, imitating the horn honking with the plate in front of her with a lazy smile.

"But that Christmas was the best for sure. After dinner, the boys washed up while me and mom made a mini snow man out of mashed potatoes, and then gave it to my dog Ziggy. She's this fluffy Golden Retriever who's the best cuddle buddy. Then we made sugar cookies in the kitchen. Only half of them made it before we broke out into a food fight. Dough went flying! Guess who started? Yep, my mom. She was such a prankster. And her laugh was addictive. You couldn't listen to it and not join in. She was like some kind of elf, happy all the time." Denver's voice got raspy as she swallowed.

"She loved watching me play. When she got too sick to watch, which let me tell you was really sick. She'd go no matter what if she could. But yeah, once she got really bad, Salem videotaped my game. I made the Senior State team that year. My mom was so proud. She said that finally all those years sitting on the bucket was worth it. In May, a month before I graduated, I played the best game of my life. I pitched a no hitter and went four for four on batting. I couldn't wait to watch the game with my mom when I got home." Denver was actually crying now.

"The first thing I saw when I got home was my dad crying. My dad didn't cry. He was a tough cowboy type, like John Wayne. A man that strong has walls like the great wall of china. When something breaks through those walls, it's like a flood that destroys everything in its path. It hurts the man so badly that there is always that crack in the wall, where those emotions keep leaking out. You can never patch it up fully."

She looked at me suddenly. "I think you have walls like that Steve, and I know something cracked through them." I was shocked by how she read me so well. How far in did she see? She continued with her story before I could go any deeper into my own thoughts.

"I knew at that instant what happened. We never said it out loud though, ever. Why say something so obvious? No, instead the first thing he did was asked how the game went. That's what hurt the most." Denver laid her head down on the table now, fully sobbing into the tiles. Her shoulders quaked with each intake of air.

I sat there dumbly for a moment. I then patted her on the back, feeling stupid as I did so. It turned into me rubbing circles in the middle of her shoulders. It seemed to help as her shoulders blades eased down and she relaxed into the touch. She then turned her head towards me, exposing her watery eyes. Her eyes seemed more green then brown at the moment, and so sad.

God have mercy, how did people handle crying girls? It made you feel terrible seeing someone cry like that. It made you want to cry too, and that wasn't a very masculine thing to do.

"Um, my mom liked to make coddle. She was Irish, so she always used potatoes. She also liked working with pork and carrots. She was a great cook. Mainly she cooked soup which was easy to reheat when she was off at work. My dad died when I was younger while serving in the army, so it was just her and me against the world. She was a nurse. She got TB and died when I was about fourteen." I let that hang in the air for a while, not sure what to say next.

"So you're an orphan?" Denver asked, lifting her head from the table.

"Yeah, I guess I am." I said with a frown.

"I'm sorry." She said, while taking my hand into hers. I tried not to notice how hers was longer and stronger than my own. Instead I focused on how warm her skin was against mine. It made me forget about all the cold memories of my past and focus on the warmth of today.

I looked up to see her staring at the hands as well. Her thumb rubbed the back of my hand as she focused her eyes onto mine. She smiled at me then and the warmth only got better. I was having this weird dropping feeling in my stomach as my lips turned into a similar smile.

And then I had to ruin.

"Uh, Denver? You got potatoes in your hair." I said, pointing to the side of her face.

She let go of my hand to touch her hair. When she found it, her head flew back as she broke into laughter. Just like her mother must have had, Denver had an addictive laugh as I found myself laughing along. It may have been the best sound I've heard in years.

I was getting in deep.

* * *

So whatcha think? Good or blah? Should I continue or dump poor Steve and Denver?

This is where I start begging for reviews like a dog for scraps. Please please please review. I love advice and future chapter ideas. Also, what are somethings You think Steve would say to Denver? Just cute little one liners please!

As always, thanks for reading,

Nicole W.K.Y.


	11. Dangerous Territory

I'm back! Hi! This chapter is gonna be a mix of Denver and Steve, which I haven't done for a while. Also, we have a star guest appearance! Hope you enjoy and remember to review!

Steve-Dangerous Territory

I've been in dangerous situations before. I've battled Nazi's, had people shooting me with both bullets and lazers, and even been shot at by Peggy Carter. None of that seemed quite as dangerous as the girl sleeping on my living room couch.

The girl seemed harmless enough. Her brown waves were tied back in a messed up ponytail, half of it already falling out and dropping across her cheek. She was curled up into a ball and was hugging a sweater to her chest, with her nose buried in it. That's when I noticed it was my sweater that she was treating like a teddy bear. She was a very heavy sleeper who didn't seem to be waking any time soon unless I intervened.

Should I move her? Would that upset her? Was it all right to let her sleep on the couch? Would she get in trouble?

I was completely and utterly out of my territory at the moment. I found myself standing a few feet away just contemplating my next move. I must have looked like a complete fool as I awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other with a slightly worried expression on my face. If I was still Captain America, one would think I was trying to figure out how to defuse a bomb and not succeeding.

When the harsh ring echoed through the room, I did a very unmanly yelp and jumped back. Denver only grumbled in her sleep, burying her head further into my sweater. As if I were approaching a wounded animal, I crept towards the noise to find her cell phone on the coffee table. The screen showed Trish's name. Not knowing what else to do, I answered.

"Uh, hello?" Wow, way to be smooth.

"Oh, hi Steve. Where's Denver?" Trish asked, sounding surprisingly cheery for eleven at night.

"She's on my couch, asleep. I have no idea what to do here Trish." I answered honestly.

"Ah. Well, it's best to just let her stay there. Trust me, she's like Sleeping Beauty in a coma every Sunday. I don't know why Sunday, something with farming or whatever. It's like the only time I actual see her sleep. But yeah, she is so not waking up happy if you try. You mind letting her just crash there tonight? We don't have school tomorrow cause of the weekend so I think it would be all good." Trish rambled on.

"Uh, yeah. That's just fine. I guess you'll see here tomorrow then. Good night Trish." I said, while Trish mumbled a quick farewell in return before hanging up.

And again I found myself starring at Denver on the couch. Well, the couch was long enough for her and it wasn't too hard. I obviously couldn't move her, with her being almost a foot taller than me and not the lightest twig in the bunch. Not to say she was fat, far from it, just more muscular then most, but not in a bad way, more athletic than anything, it was lean but still noticeable if you looked, especially in the legs, which were long anyways… was I really having this conversation with myself? I really, really needed to get to sleep before I continued to think such strange things.

I went to the bedroom and pulled out the spare blankets out of my closet, having to stand on my toes to reach the top shelf. I grabbed the extra pillow off of my bed before going back to the living room. I settled her in, gently placing the pillow under her head and draping the blankets over her. Noting that she was dead asleep, I brushed the lose strands away from her face and tucked them behind her ear.

Once I was sure that the apartment was securely locked, I went to the bedroom. I left the door open, just in case. Changing quickly, I crawled into bed. I was just waiting for sleep to take over when a throbbing started to pulse through my left leg. I lay there for a moment, hopping it would pass, but it didn't. It actually got worse as the throbbing spread over to my other leg and up. Jerking up, I tried to rub the pain away. The muscles were bunching tightly under the skin and then relaxing before repeating. It felt like a massive Charlie horse as I ground my teeth together from the feeling.

I was warned that there would be side effects from the project, but this is the worse one yet. It was like my muscles were separating. I reached over to the side table for some of the medicine Bruce gave me to elevate any pain he expected me to have. After waiting fifteen minutes, the pain slowly dulled, but didn't gully go away. It was enough for me to fall asleep.

Denver

I woke up in an unfamiliar place. By unfamiliar, I mean entirely grey. Once the stupidity of sleep slipped away and I discovered logic again, I recognized I was staring at the back of a fabric couch. But it wasn't the extremely boring interior design that woke me. It was the repeated thudding coming from close by.

I lazily kicked at the blanket on me, which tangled around my ankles. After a brief wrestling match, I came out victorious. It was cold in the room, so I pulled the sweater from the couch on. It was large on me, and I noticed it wasn't mine a little slowly. It was a dark grey, which seemed to be the color of the day, sweater with a white symbol of a bird on it. The fabric of the sleeves hung past my fingertips. I bunched the material up until my hands were freed. It smelt like lemon soap and after shave. I had to admit that I liked it.

Remembering my previous curiosity, I followed the sound of the thumping until I reached the bedroom door, which was partially open. The lights were off, but the windows allowed plenty of the early morning light in to see. There stood Steve in a plain white t-shirt and sweats. He was going at it on a poor punching bag. He sure did look like he knew what he was doing too by how quickly and perfectly the combos struck the bag without a moment of thought.

It was actually really cool to watch. He was fast too. Who knew my little Steve could look so lethal? The tendons under his pale skin flexed with each move, his feet moving confidently underneath him. It was one of those moments that I discovered I could watch this for hours without getting bored.

Right when I thought that, Steve faltered in his steps. He gasped in air as he leaned against the bag for support while he caught his breath.

"That was impressive." I said, clapping my hands together.

Steve looked up with a cute smirk. "Well maybe I was trying to impress you. Like what you see?" He teased. I paused mid clap, completely taken back by a flirty Steve. Maybe he wasn't fully awake yet. I blush crept its way up my face, but I gave a teasing smile back.

"Mission accomplished Mister Steve." I said, crossing my arms over my chest. This caused a full smile to appear on his face.

"Thanks. It's been forever since I woke up feeling that good. I thought I'd check if I still had it. I guess I do. Sorry if I woke you up." He said, beginning to turn shy by the end of his speech with his apology.

"Don't be. That was really cool. The best I can do is a simple right hook, which I've never needed to use. Maybe you could teach me something later." I said, leaning against the door jam, trying to play it cool.

"I guess I could, but I think I tired myself out too quickly. Also, I kind of stink. I should take a shower." He said, peeling the shirt he had on off of his chest, which I then noticed was drenched.

Blushing yet again, I hurried out of the room. "Ok, well I'll just start breakfast." I said as I heard the door close behind me. Just as I made it to the fridge, I hear the shower start.

I few minutes later, a found myself chopping the extra food from last night up for omelets. That's when the doorbell rang. I turned towards the door, but still heard the water running. Whipping my hands off, I answered the door.

A man with dark glasses and a baseball hat stood there. His hand was already on his hat but paused there when he saw me at the door. He tilted his head to the side like a confused dog, took a step back to check the apartment number, before stepping forward again.

"Uh, is Steve here?" He asked, sounding both confused and amused at the same time.

"Yeah. He's just in the shower. Are you a friend of his?" I asked, examining the man.

"Sure am." He said with a smile. I knew it was kind of stupid to trust a man that easily, but I liked this guy.

"Well, you can come in and wait if you want. He's probably almost done." I said, opening the door wider to let him in.

His lips pinched together as he debated. "Well…" he began.

"I'm just starting breakfast. I make a mean omelet." I coaxed him.

"Sold." The man said happily, easily won over by the offer of food. Guys, they were all the same, thinking with their stomachs. He strode in the place like he owned it before sitting at the breakfast bar.

I raised my hand to him over the counter. "Hi, I'm Denver by the way." I said. He quickly took it with an energetic shake. "Call me Howard." He said with a grin. I smiled back at him.

"So not to sound abrupt or anything, but are you and Steve an item or something? I've never seen a girl at his place, let alone him actually talking to one." Howard asked.

"Oh, what, no. I accidently fell asleep here last night and crashed on his couch. Steve's too much of a gentleman to kick me out. No, I go to school with him. I'm also part of his paint ball team and unofficial psych tutor." I answered quickly, as I began the first omelet, asking what Howard would want on his.

Once Howard started eating his omelet, Steve walked out of his room. His hair was neatly combed and shirt perfectly tucked in. He seemed surprised to see Howard at the table.

"Tony, what are you doing here?" Steve asked, walking up to us.

"Howard's a middle name." The man said to me before returning his attention to Steve. "Well, you told me about missing your bike so I decided to bring it over." He said before taking a big bite of egg.

"But I only called you yesterday." Steve said, a little astonished.

"Connections, my friend. Connections." Tony said as if it was a simple thing to know.

"Well, uh, thank you. That was extremely fast." Steve said. "So, what are we having?" He then asked me.

Later after breakfast was over, I found myself standing before the motorcycles I've ever seen. It was an older styled one, which I preferred. The newer, sports style looking ones looked too hard to ride on. Tony told me Steve's bike was a pimped up Harley Davidson.

"Not what you were expecting was it?" Tony/Howard asked as we watched Steve examining the motorcycle for any damage.

"Nope, but with Steve I never know what to expect. He's a rebel like that." I said, which only caused Tony to laugh.

"Steve, a rebel, please…" He started. I knew he was rolling his eyes behind the dark lenses of his camera.

"Seriously, being a rebel can be a good thing at times. America's a rebel. How else do you imagine we separated from Britain, by following the rules?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest once I made my point.

"Well if there's one thing Steve is, it's patriotic." Tony said, though it sounded like there was a second meaning to his words.

TA DA!

Remember to Review! I need love guys. It inspires me to continue writing. Hope you enjoyed it!

Sincerely,

Nicole W.K.Y.


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